Fortune Favors the Fair
by Falkrem
Summary: Behaviorist Aikurou Mikisugi believes he can turn street rat Ryuuko Matoi into a 'proper' woman in preparation for a ball. Mikiryu, AU. Based on Shaw's Pygmalion play.
1. Act I - Fortuitous

A/N: Loosely inspired by Shaw's Pygmalion play. Loosely. In fact, this story has nothing to do with Pygmalion. I lied. Mostly.

* * *

Act I – Fortuitous

She grabbed the bag of chips and stuffed them into the basket already filled with several bars of chocolate, an extra large bottle of Gatorade and a box of Lucky Charms, glancing just once at the camera monitoring her every move. Her baseball cap securely pulled over to hide her blue eyes, she quickly nabbed a stick of jerky and waited patiently in the corner beside the ATM. Her hand lingered on a bag of gummy candies, earning the interest of the convenience store's owner at the counter. That moment of hesitation was all that was needed to arouse his suspicions and she quickly snatched the bag and made a break for the doors, basket in one arm. She shoved through the throngs of people in her way, the owner chasing after her, shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs.

As she bumped into surprised pedestrians, the dark-haired girl nearly tripped over a brown-haired boy, the boy yelling at her much in the same way as the store owner. Her cap flew off in the process, lost in the crowd. She dashed into a nearby alley, certain she'd lost the angry man. The girl let out a sigh of relief, slumping against a dumpster, and checked her spoils for the day. Everything was in order, except–

Now that she thought about it, she was certain she'd felt his hand in her basket when she nearly ran him over. The girl glanced around herself wildly, hoping her suspicions were wrong and that she'd only dropped the bag in passing. Suddenly, she was filled with loathing for both herself and the brown-haired boy.

"That brat stole my gummy candies!"

"Your teeth are going to rot, you know."

She whipped her head over to the source of the voice, finding that it belonged to a muscular man with dark hair and a mohawk. He was near the entrance of the alley, back leaning against the brick wall of a magazine shop. Lit cigarette in his mouth, he looked over at the surprised girl, indifference written on his face. Across the street, a young man sitting outside a coffee shop scribbled something down on his notepad, observing the two closely. Shades hid the blue-haired man's eyes and thoughts from prying passerby.

Hoping to appear innocent, the girl put on a sheepish grin, hands behind her back. "Er…Do you want some?"

"No thanks. I don't eat food that's been stolen."

She cursed herself for letting him see through her façade.

"How did you know?"

"If you running away from that pissed off man was any indication of you being in trouble–with a convenience store basket, nonetheless–I'd say you took those goods without paying for them."

The girl grumbled to herself, digging the toe of her shoe into a small hole in the concrete.

He glanced at the young man making his way toward them. The burly man did a double take, recognizing him. The other man had a wide grin on his face, removing his shades.

"Hello, Tsumugu. Never thought I'd run into you here," he stated with complete ease, notepad tucked under one arm. He'd made sure to jot down the other man's interactions as well.

Tsumugu stared, wide-eyed, at the man before him. _Was it truly him?_ He hadn't seen the man in such a long time!

The girl shifted nervously, repelled by the man appearing to be Tsumugu's friend. She eyed the notepad he held. _Was he a police officer?_ Crap. The girl's eyes darted from the basket back to the blue-haired man. She hoped he hadn't noticed her stash of stolen goods.

"I've been meaning to meet up with you for a while now, Mikisugi," the dark-haired man replied, recovering. The girl had her body turned in case she had to run.

"She's quite street savvy, isn't she?" Aikurou remarked, blue eyes staring intently into hers. She was _really_ tempted to take off now.

"She could use some manners, but I wouldn't say she's too far off the edge," Tsumugu concurred, earning a dirty look from the girl.

"Woah, woah! I'm _damn_ sure I have manners and you're a bunch of weirdoes coming to turn me in," she said at last, balling her hands into fists in front of her.

"She could stand to talk more politely," the blue-haired man told his friend, ignoring the shocked girl. She furrowed her eyebrows.

"_What the hell do you want from me, ya' twits?_"

Aikurou glanced at her, then continued speaking, his attention on the burly man in front of him.

"Her vocabulary is atrocious."

"But she isn't a lost cause. I think she might have potential–especially with your line of work," Tsumugu responded. The girl narrowed her eyes at the men. She didn't like how they went on as if she weren't there.

"_What are you talking about?_"

They stared at her in silence, not alleviating the discomfort within her.

"I'm Aikurou Mikisugi, a behaviorist."

"Behave-what?"

"He specializes in behavioral therapy. Looks at a person's psychological problems, stuff like that," the dark-haired man brusquely explained, the girl looking at the men with increasing suspicion.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Tsumugu Kinagase. A…soldier of sorts."

"Uh huh," the girl replied, now certain the muscular man was a police officer. "What does that have to do with me learning 'some manners'?"

"You don't have a family, do you?" Aikurou pointed out, the statement hitting the girl at the core.

"W-what the hell does that have to do with anything? Also, you're being creeps! I'll call the cops on you!" She thrust a finger in their direction, backing away. Her attention switched between the basket and the two men, and vice versa. If she was going to escape, she definitely wasn't going to ditch her only meal of the day.

"You wouldn't do that," the behaviorist said with a cold smile, "because you've already caused trouble for yourself." She was starting to dislike this intuitive man.

"I can do whatever the hell I want!"

Tsumugu sighed, crossing his arms. "Where's your family? I'll bring you back to them, no questions asked, and we can forget about the whole ordeal."

Aikurou made a mental note of her hesitation. "I don't have a family."

"Is that why you're resorting to petty crime?" Tsumugu asked, the girl looking away.

"S-shut up!"

"It seems that we've found the source of her actions," Aikurou remarked with a grin. She glared daggers at him.

"Maybe if you straighten out, you won't have to resort to stealing anymore," the dark-haired man said gently.

"I can do whatever the hell I want!"

"She's like a broken record." Aikurou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The girl wanted to burn holes in the man. With her eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Suddenly, the sounds of a familiar, furious shop owner could be heard down the street–approaching their vicinity. She looked around in panic, hurriedly gathering the items into her basket.

"Don't you want to have a better life?" Tsumugu asked, the men watching her closely. She stopped, briefly considering.

"W-well, yeah…" The girl wasn't sure about trusting these suspicious characters. The idea of not having to watch her back comforted her, however, and she listened to what the men had to say.

"Here's where I live," Aikurou stated as he handed her a small scrap of paper with the location written in dark ink. She stared at him, appalled. _Why the hell was he giving her his address?!_ She was certain he was a pedophile of some sort. Regardless, she warily took the card and pocketed it, grabbing her basket and sprinting off just as the owner passed by the alley.

As soon as the girl was out of sight, Tsumugu looked at the other man strangely. "Wasn't that a little…forward? Mikisugi, you shouldn't give random girls your address without a second thought!"

"She needed help," Aikurou replied, his friend rolling his eyes at his tactlessness.

"_'Help'_? Are you sure you're in the right profession?"

The blue-haired man smirked. "Believe me, friend, I know exactly what I'm doing."

"You'd better not do anything to her," Tsumugu stated with a dark glare, "or I'll know."

"She'll just have to pay me back eventually," Aikurou responded with a small wave goodbye.

The dark-haired man gave him an incredulous look. "Putting girls in your debt again? You never change."

"Only because I'm the best behaviorist this city's got," his friend told him, walking off.

Tsumugu sighed. _What was wrong with that man?_

His only hope was that the girl would quickly throw away the card and never show herself to Aikurou ever again.


	2. Act II - Facetious

A/N: Geez, Aikurou, stop being a creep.

* * *

Act II – Facetious

Droplets of water gathered at the edge of the metal roof of the apartment complex, rapidly descending to the ground as soon as their burden became too much. Clouds hung over the city like a funeral veil, cars honking and screeching from traffic light to traffic light. Inside his warm apartment, Aikurou was sitting comfortably by the kotatsu, drinking fresh coffee. "Alright, alright," Aikurou told the hurried knocking at his door, slowly getting up to attend to whomever decided to bother him at this time of night.

He stared at the drenched girl standing on his welcome mat, holding a dripping card. She brushed her wet hair out of her face, giving the man a resentful look. He had given the card to her simply because he pitied the homeless girl–he didn't expect her to actually show up on his doorstep!

"Why are you here?" he inquired, still staring. She let out a small sneeze, and he reluctantly let the sopping girl into his home, closing the door after her. It was supposed to be a joke! Now he had to deal with a teenager whose name he'd never caught–with an oncoming cold, too.

"Why else would I be here? I want a better life," she retorted, plopping herself down onto a cushion by the inviting kotatsu. He gave her an stern look for soaking his furniture. His eyes followed the trail of mud her shoes left on the floor and he sighed. He was going to have a hard time cleaning that up later.

"And you come charging into my home?"

"Hey, you let me in," she shot back, taking an apple from the wicker basket in the middle of the kotatsu. She bit into it with a loud crunch, chewing it thoroughly as Aikurou looked at her in awe. _How could she make herself so at home here?!_

Another knock at the door–this time with more force–startled them. It was rare for him to have any visitors, let alone two. He was used to living without the company of others, and often looked down on the idea of having a relationship with anybody–even clients. The exception to that rule of solitude was Tsumugu, and it was only because he'd known the man far longer than anyone else.

Who, of all people, was standing at his doorway, holding an umbrella. Aikurou sighed and let his friend in, hoping he would excuse the mud on the carpet. He did.

The burly man folded up his umbrella and rested it against his boots, which were sitting beside the welcome mat outside. He took a seat by the kotatsu, across from the girl, cross-legged and in silence. Aikurou raised both eyebrows and wondered if he should let Tsumugu drag her out of his home.

"Mikisugi," the dark-haired man began, the behaviorist knowing exactly what he was going to say next, "why is she in your apartment?" Tsumugu never took his eyes off the girl before him. She continued munching on her (stolen) apple, keeping eye contact with the man.

"I have _no_ idea," Aikurou stated, disregarding the explanation she'd told him earlier. The girl turned her head and furrowed her eyebrows, giving him a scowl from behind the apple.

"I told you, it's because I want a better life!"

Tsumugu cocked his head slightly, still looking at the girl. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mikisugi? She's just a kid."

"I am seventeen, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"

Aikurou raised an eyebrow, amused. "And like to steal junk food from convenience stores."

She really wanted to wipe the smile off of his face.

"So why _are_ you here?"

The girl gritted her teeth. _Why did this have to be so difficult?!_

"I don't want to live on the streets anymore."

"There are orphanages and shelters, you know," Aikurou pointed out.

"I know!" she snapped. "But it's not the same as having a real home," she added quietly, the carpet taking her interest. The men didn't seem to notice and continued their conversation without her.

Upon closer inspection of the place, she began to notice things that had escaped her attention when she had entered his apartment. Her back was against a fireplace, warming her to the bone–a welcome feeling. To her right was a large window that reflected the shimmering lights of the city, moisture coating the pane. The rest of the 'living area' (as she labeled it) was rather spacious–a shelf beside the door on the same wall as the window, two couches perpendicular to each other as they hugged the wall to her left, the kitchen a few feet away from the main door. She saw that the usual appliances were in Aikurou's kitchen: dishwasher, oven, stove, refrigerator. Between one of the couches and the kitchen was a small hallway with three doors. The girl was certain one door belonged to the bathroom, another to the toilet, and the last to his bedroom. On the shelving unit, she saw several picture frames side by side, one of which had a picture of both men and a woman who looked almost like her–piquing her interest. Before she could ask about the woman in the picture, Aikurou shooed her off to take a bath.

"You're ruining my furniture," he complained, handing her a towel as he led her to the bathroom. She stuck her tongue out at him, closing the door behind her. Getting into the tub, she let the steaming water wash away her worries, and she began to relax under the soothing temperature. The murmur of voices could be heard through the wall, but she paid them no mind.

A grin appeared on Tsumugu's face as soon as his friend took the girl's spot by the kotatsu. The muscular man leaned slightly forward, his voice low.

"Let's make a bet."

Aikurou looked at his friend suspiciously. "What kind of bet?" The other man's next words were clear and precise, some mysterious intention behind them.

"Why don't you," Tsumugu suggested, "train the girl into being a proper woman?"

"Define 'proper'."

"Not the street rat she is right now."

His friend shrugged, bringing his coffee up to his lips.

"It's not my problem."

"Do you really want her tracking dirt in here all the time?" Tsumugu asked, Aikurou grimacing at the thought. He was _not_ going to spend his evenings cleaning up after her.

"She doesn't live here!"

"She does now."

The other man groaned, setting aside his mug of coffee, an annoyed look on his face. It was his own fault for inviting the girl into his home; he should have thought about the matter more carefully.

"And what will you give me when I win this bet?" he inquired confidently. Tsumugu had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'll pay for whatever damage she causes you."

"That sounds terrible. How do you know I'm going to live through this?" his friend lamented, bringing a hand up to his forehead.

"Because you're Aikurou Mikisugi. You can do anything." Tsumugu grinned, knowing that his friend's pride wouldn't let him back down.

He peeked up at the burly man. "I suppose I can," he remarked, a devious smile forming on his face. He glanced at the clock. It was about time for him to rinse off for the night._What was the girl doing?_ Before he could entertain the thought of checking on her–no, he wasn't going to do that. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Immediately, the girl opened the door of the bathroom, wrapped in the towel he had given her, face flushing. Both men stared at her, and she glared at them–causing Tsumugu to look away, and Aikurou to stare more.

"Don't stare!" the girl yelled, chucking a nearby slipper at the blue-haired man's face. Her face was bright red and she stood there, clenching her hands. A concentrated look was on her face–as if she couldn't bring herself to say her next words.

"Do you–" she stated through gritted teeth, "–have any clothes I could borrow?"

Aikurou raised an eyebrow, amused. He got up, walking over to his bedroom.

"They might be a tad large for you," he remarked, eyeing the girl, "but I'm sure they'll suffice. For now, at least."

Tsumugu gave his friend a hard look, warning him. The other man responded with a pleasant smile. Inside his dim bedroom, the behaviorist picked through his closet, setting aside clothes that he could care less for–they'd suit well as pajamas for the girl, but there_was_ the issue of getting her uniform laundered. _Why was she wearing a uniform, anyway? Wasn't she an orphan?_

She stayed by his doorway, uncertain of whether she should follow him into the room. He held out a folded T-shirt to her, the girl hesitating. His hand beckoned her again and she took it, rushing out of the room and back into the bathroom. Aikurou smirked to himself.

After the girl had changed, Tsumugu pardoned himself, claiming that he had 'unfinished business' to attend to–leaving his friend wondering why he had visited in the first place. The burly man was soon out of the apartment, bidding the other man farewell, taking his umbrella with him. He gave Aikurou one last, stern look before departing into the rain.

_'If you can make her presentable for a Kiryuuin party, then I'll cover the expenses of her lessons,'_ were his final words.

The girl sat on the couch, hugging her knees, the shirt covering her entire body. While she'd prefer having pants, she liked how it was loose enough to fold around her when she sat down, cloaking her with a warmth as satisfactory as the fire. A tangible silence fell over the apartment–the orphan observing the flickering fireplace, the behaviorist preparing more coffee in the kitchen.

"Do you have a name?" Aikurou asked, breaking that unsavory silence. She looked at him as if she couldn't comprehend the question. Finally, she spoke.

"Ryuuko. Ryuuko…Matoi."

Aikurou gave her a surprised look. "You have a last name."

"Well, yeah!" She looked at him with contempt. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought you didn't have a family."

Ryuuko glanced away, the fire crackling. "I don't." She took a deep breath, then continued. "My mother died shortly after I was born, and my father–" she paused, voice quiet, "–I lost him a few years back, when I was still in middle school. I've been living on the streets since then."

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. It doesn't really matter, anyway."

Another stretch of silence. He hoped this wasn't going to be routine.

"Did you steal that uniform, too?"

She stared at him, shocked. "Are you _kidding?_"

He held up his hands protectively. "I was just asking."

"No," she grumbled, glaring at him, "I didn't. It was a gift–from my father."

"He has eccentric tastes."

"Shut up."

Aikurou smirked again, picking up and draining the last of his cold cup of coffee. The coffee maker beeped as if on cue. He poured himself another cup, the steam rising up and dissipating into nothingness.

"Do you _always_ drink coffee at night?" she inquired, the man leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

"Only when I have a busy schedule the next day."

"Isn't that counter…count…counterin…"

"Counterintuitive?"

"Yeah, that word."

"I'm not really a morning person, so I drink coffee throughout the day to keep me awake," he explained, the girl staring.

"But also at night," she remarked, the behaviorist chuckling, "are you some kind of addict?"

"I wouldn't say it's an _addiction_, but I can't seem to stop."

"So you're an addict."

He watched her in silence, making the room seem several degrees warmer and the girl extremely uncomfortable. Setting aside his steaming coffee, he made his way to the couch, where he sat down next to her, a suspicious smile on his face.

"There are _other_ kinds of addictions, too," he stated suggestively, placing an arm around the nervous girl's shoulders. As if his touched electrified her, she jumped up with a squeak and dashed away to hide in the bathroom. The blue-haired man laughed.

He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

_Expenses, hm?_ Aikurou thought to himself as he made breakfast the next morning. Ryuuko was snoozing soundly on the couch closest to the fireplace, a blanket over her. He heeded his friend's words and didn't try anything on the girl while she was sleeping–yet. Roused from her sleep by the smell and sound of eggs sizzling, the girl rose into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes tenderly. It took her a few seconds to adjust her eyesight to her surroundings, and she realized with growing horror that she was still in that intolerable behaviorist's apartment.

"You're really cute when you sleep," the man said, adjusting the temperature on the stove. His back was turned to the girl, but he could feel her glare singeing the back of his head.

She pulled the large T-shirt over her knees, relishing its coziness. Ryuuko liked the idea of having a warm bath in the morning; the water was calming and gentle on her nerves, allowing her to forget about the weird man she was now living with. She was hesitant in asking him, however, as she found the man quite untrustworthy. Then again, the girl hadn't stolen anything from him, nor did she take off into the night–indicating that she felt somewhat at ease in his home. Perhaps it was the feeling of comfort she received from the fireplace (contrary to how she felt around him) or the thought that she now had a place to stay without worrying about ill reputed gangs or enraged shopkeepers.

The girl stretched and sat down at the kotatsu just as Aikurou set down plates for the both of them. Ryuuko was greeted by the strong yet savory combined smell of bacon, eggs and toast. The man returned to the kitchen to pour them glasses of orange juice.

"What's wrong? Aren't you going to eat?" he asked her as she stared in awe at the food before her. She picked up her fork and started poking the yolk of one of the eggs.

"It's been a long time since I had a meal like this," she told him, her voice soft. He took a seat before her.

"Then eat up. You shouldn't go around on an empty stomach."

She looked up at him, her face serious.

"It's kind of hard not to–when you don't have money or a home."

"But you do now, don't you?" His response startled the girl, and her face flushed.

"D-don't be stupid! I don't live here!"

He gave her an infuriating smirk. "Then why are you eating breakfast with me?"

Her face reddened more.

"B-because I don't want to waste food!" She stabbed an egg with her fork with such force that the yolk exploded over itself. "This might be the last meal I get," she whispered, averting her eyes as she swished the yellow substance around on her plate.

"Don't play with your food."

Ryuuko glared at him. "Shut up! Don't tell me what to do!"

His lips curved into a small smile. "Your first lesson: don't play with your food."

Surprise took over her face, and she grumbled to herself as she brought a piece of bacon to her lips.

"In order to be a 'proper lady', you must learn to mind your manners."

"I didn't ask to become a _'proper lady'_! I wanted a better life!"

"Then start here."

She puffed out her cheeks at him in indignation. The girl wasn't going to win this conversation, not when this man knew exactly how to counter her arguments. She took another bite of bacon, chewing slowly while glowering at the him.

"I don't have to do as you say!" she snapped between bites.

"Don't talk when your mouth is full."

"Shut up!"


	3. Act III, scene i - Fatuous

Act III, scene i – Fictitious

"You're doing it wrong."

The girl blushed under his gaze, her hand clasped in his. If it weren't for the apartment's air conditioner, she was certain she'd overheat due to embarrassment. He had placed his hand on her back, a tingling sensation filling her. Her heart rate accelerated, fueled by the current running through her body.

"H-have you practiced this before?" she wondered aloud, heart racing. He gave her a mysterious smile, bringing her in closer. The faint smell of vanilla wafted through the air, her heartbeat disappearing beyond the human realm.

"_'Practice'_? Who needs practice? Dancing is supposed to be as natural and free-flowing as water."

Her cheeks burned as he said this, humiliation turning her face bright red. Then he laughed, an inviting sound which reached her ears.

"It was a joke. My parents forced me to learn from the time I could walk."

"O-oh…"

"Formal dancing seems rigid in training, but once you get the hang of it, the entire procedure is as easy as a cakewalk."

'Rigid', 'training', 'procedure'. The words sounded so autonomous, so unfeeling. She shivered slightly and a small frown crossed his face.

"Is something the matter?"

"N-no. Nothing at all!" she plastered a grin onto her face, but he didn't buy it. The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ryuuko?"

She glanced away, hoping to find something to use as a distraction as they continued to waltz in the living area. At first, she was clumsy and stiff, haphazardly looking about herself to make sure she didn't bump into or knock over anything. But as time went on, her motions gradually matched his, her body moving alongside his to the sound of his voice issuing out her part's commands.

_'Right, back. Left, side. Right, close. Left, forward–'_ and on he went, until the girl memorized the rhythm he provided. One, two, three. One, two, three.

Why did his proximity affect her so suddenly? She was doing fine until several days earlier, when he was showing her which utensil to use during specific courses. He had leaned over her shoulder, his tie brushing lightly against her, his hand stopping her from picking the wrong utensil again. The dark-haired girl's heart practically stopped, her hand shaking in his–as if realizing the smoothness of his skin for the first time.

_Why was he so intent on taking care of her, teaching her, letting her stay in his home?_ Surely he had business elsewhere–yet he had stayed at his apartment and had meals with her, he had brought her along to buy groceries, he had even let her claim the blue pillow he had in his bedroom. It was as if they were truly living together–and it made her cheeks burn, thinking about it.

Ryuuko's eyes found that particular picture frame on the shelf, and the question rose up on its own.

"Who is that?" she inquired, referring to the dark-haired woman who looked just like her.

"Hm?" The man glanced over at the frame she was staring at, nonchalance in his movements. She waited several seconds for his response, then assumed that he didn't want to talk about her–but he continued.

"That's Tsumugu's sister, Kinue."

"She looks–"

"–a lot like you?" Aikurou finished for her, bringing her close to him again. Her face flushed, her attempts in forgetting the man's presence in vain. "It may seem like the similarities are striking, but you two are nothing like each other."

"Is she nice?"

His voice grew quiet.

"She was."

Noticing this, she shut her mouth, allowing them to dance in silence. After a while, he spoke.

"Kinue died in a car accident several years ago while Tsumugu was overseas. He was devastated."

"What about you? Were you…sad? When she–"

"When she died?" A distant look crossed his face.

"We weren't very close," he told her after a moment's hesitation. His voice carried a remorse that caught the girl off guard. She was certain there was something more to his words.

Catching her curious gaze, he hastily added, "she was always going on about 'little brother this, little brother that'. I'd almost thought she was in love with the man. Of course, he had done much for her."

They continued their practice in silence, the world spinning around Ryuuko. His eyes briefly met with hers and it was in that moment that she glimpsed…mistrust. Her heart in her throat, she attempted a composed air.

"Tsumugu sounds like a caring guy."

"I'm sure he _can_ be," Aikurou scoffed to himself. Ryuuko gave him a strange look.

"You don't seem to like him. I thought you two were friends."

"Being friends with someone doesn't mean you have to like them."

She looked at the photograph one more time, trying to figure out what each smiling face was thinking about. Tsumugu, with his generosity for his sister. Kinue, with her attachment to her brother. Aikurou, with…what? Why was he smiling in that picture, so detached from the siblings?

"Liking someone doesn't mean you have to be friends with them," she remarked, almost appalled by her audacity. _Did she really say that aloud?_ Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest. Aikurou smirked again.

"Do _you_ like me?"

She nearly choked.

"W-w-what are you talking about?" The girl averted her eyes, the temperature in her cheeks at an all time high. She regained her voice and gave him a more suitable response.

"You're…okay, I guess."

He pouted. "'Okay'? Is that the only compliment I get? I thought 'dashing', 'lively', and 'drop-dead gorgeous' would be in your vocabulary, but it seems that you haven't improved a bit."

She laughed. Aikurou thinking of himself as 'drop-dead gorgeous' made her smile–even though she knew he was completely right. He was so confident, so flippant, so inconstant.

"No, it seems I haven't."

The man chuckled. "You're getting the hang of it, though."

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a blue-haired boy frozen in a photograph. Again, her curiosity got the best of her.

"Is that–"

Right as she was about to ask, she jerked her hand over to point–still grasping his–and slipped under his weight, the man falling forward in surprise. Aikurou stopped himself from flattening the girl just in time by releasing her other hand and using his own to cushion the blow. His knee ended up between her legs, the girl staring in shock at the man towering above her. Her face reddened and her heartbeat ceased as oceanic eyes locked with hers. To be seen in such a vulnerable position filled her with embarrassment–she thought she was going to die.

Seeing her flushed face, he gave her a wicked grin and brushed a hair out of her face using the hand that wasn't supporting his body. The blue-haired man leaned in close to her ear, and the girl was sure he could hear the rapid beating of her heart.

"Are you alright, Ryuuko?" he whispered sweetly, his words suggestive and insincere.

"I-I-I'm fine!" she shouted, still on her back, trapped. He cocked his head slightly when he pulled away, humor in his eyes.

"Or–" he rubbed a finger against her lips, slow and deliberate as he said this, "–do you prefer us this way?"

She kicked him in the crotch and darted for the bathroom, face burning, the man gripping his delicate equipment and groaning in pain.

* * *

"That wasn't very ladylike of you," he commented the next morning, wincing slightly as he prepared coffee in the kitchen. Ryuuko had her arms crossed, sitting on the couch, ignoring him. They hadn't spoken since practice, the girl taking refuge in the bathroom, Aikurou giving up on the hope that he could rinse off for the night.

"I don't have to be ladylike, ya' twit."

"What did I say about language?"

She stuck her tongue out at him but didn't say anything else. He picked out three packets of sugar and emptied the contents into his cup, the sudden smell of freshly brewed coffee surging through the air. The blue-haired man disposed of the packets and made his way to the kotatsu, where he sat down and proceeded to have a staring contest with the girl. She quickly lost.

"Stop staring!"

"You started it," he said into his cup. The girl threw him a dirty look as she hugged the blue pillow.

"Ya' want me to end it?" she threatened, clutching the pillow closer to her body. She was ready to beat him with whatever weapons were at her disposal. Even if that meant sacrificing her favorite blue pillow–the only one she could fall asleep with.

He held up one hand in surrender as he took a sip of coffee, as if that would stop the girl's anger.

"You're a volatile girl. Then again, I suppose teenagers are supposed to be that way," he remarked, earning a pillow to the face.

"You're being stupid!"

"Does someone need a timeout?"

"Shut up!"

After several minutes of silence (accompanied by Aikurou's chewing), the man glanced over at her.

"Ryuuko, your food is getting cold."

"Shut up."

He sighed and got up, bringing his plate to the sink to rinse it off. What an incorrigible girl! Although he'd managed to overturn most of her 'bad habits', he still had trouble correcting the child.

"Perhaps I should send you to school," he considered, the girl glaring at him.

"Perhaps you should shut the hell up!"

"Perhaps I should be less lenient." He made his way toward the couch.

"Perhaps you should get the fu–"

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson," he finally said, sitting down beside her. She tensed, prepared to leap away from the blue-haired weirdo with a smirk on his face. He didn't make a move toward her.

Instead, he started unbuttoning his dress shirt–tie slipping off–in front of her, the girl's eyes growing wide, her cheeks on fire.

"W-w-what are you doing, freak?!" Aikurou was halfway out of his shirt when she punched him in the face with her last pillow. She edged away from him, using her last pillow as a shield between the half-naked man and herself. "P-put your clothes back on!" He then crawled over to the girl, Ryuuko shrinking back–hoping that the couch's cushions would let her sink in and hide herself from him.

A tap on the window drew their attention, a cross Tsumugu staring at them. Aikurou froze, an 'oh crap' look plastered on his face, Ryuuko taking that opportunity to kick the man's vitals a second time. Later, Tsumugu sat across from Aikurou at the kotatsu, the blue-haired man tenderly placing an ice pack over his bruised jaw.

"What did I tell you, Mikisugi," the burly man simply stated, aware that the other man knew exactly what he was talking about. The girl continued to glare at her offender, two of the three pillows back on the couch. She was holding the blue one in her arms again, her deadly gaze fixed upon the behaviorist.

Aikurou's only response was to lightly laugh, bringing his cup of coffee to his lips. Said coffee then spilled all over his face when Ryuuko chucked another pillow at him. While Aikurou was in the bathroom (gently drying his face of the scalding beverage), Tsumugu turned to the dark-haired girl.

"You don't have to listen to everything he says," he told her, voice low so that his friend wouldn't hear.

"I don't," she muttered, staring at the carpet–but the man didn't believe her.

"He's teaching you how to become a 'proper lady'. You don't seriously believe there's such a thing, do you?"

"If it'll keep me off the streets, I don't mind doing what he tells me to do."

"I'm just worried he'll ask too much of you."

She looked at the dark-haired man in surprise.

"'Too much'? I don't really think there's a limit–"

"There's always a limit. Once you get to know him, you're likely to leave as quickly as you'd arrived."

"He doesn't seem like a _bad_ person."

Tsumugu grinned, the girl returning it with one of her own.

"I'll have to agree with you on that. He's just misguided, that's all."

At that moment, Aikurou returned to the kotatsu, complaining about the coffee stains on his shirt. Tsumugu and the girl shared knowing looks and continued their 'casual' conversation.

"So why were you out there?" Ryuuko asked the man as soon as Aikurou sat down.

"I was just paying a visit," Tsumugu explained, "and good thing I did, too." He gave the blue-haired man a hard look. Aikurou gave him a sweet smile. Ryuuko was not amused.

"He causes problems for me on a daily basis!" she complained, the burly man raising an eyebrow while looking at the other man.

"He does that to everyone."

Aikurou placed a hand over his heart as if he had been shot. "You make it sound as if I'm a burden to mankind."

"You are," the girl and man said in unison. Aikurou huffed to himself.

"I was just teaching her a lesson," the man muttered, miffed.

"Sure," Tsumugu replied, getting up to raid Aikurou's fridge. Without the dark-haired man to block her view of Aikurou, the girl grumpily glared at the behaviorist while Tsumugu dug past carrots and beef to reach what he was looking for. As soon as he stepped out of the kitchen, he gave the two a simple "well, I'll be going now" with a case of beer in hand. Ryuuko stared at the burly man in shock. _Was that the only reason he was here?!_

"Have fun, friend," Aikurou remarked as Tsumugu opened the door, the blue-haired man turning his attention to Ryuuko, "I know I will."

She threw the last two pillows at him.


	4. Act III, scene ii - Fictitious

A/N: Behaviorists don't 'correct' behaviors–they just figure out the source and help with therapeutic measures. Aikurou's the kind of behaviorist who actually takes it upon himself to '_correct_' his clients. Talk about being 'the best', haha (that was a joke).

* * *

Act III, scene ii – Fatuous

Several weeks later, Aikurou received a visit from a peculiar family at his office. Three of them sat on his couch, an unkempt mess. The brown-haired girl, the elder of the two children, looked around the office in excitement, commenting about the cleanliness of the place and the various books on his shelves. Aikurou listened to what the parents had to say, nodding at just the right times.

"Our Matarou is such a terrible child. He gets himself into trouble more times than we can count. Please, help us," the mother begged, wiping away tears from her eyes. The brown-haired boy himself, Matarou, was swinging his legs back and forth, fighting the urge to nab something, anything, from the blue-haired man's office. Then, the father spoke up.

"Since you're the only behaviorist within three city blocks, we figured we'd come to you; you're close to our home and the best there is."

Aikurou smiled in response, but that smile soon disappeared when the other man continued.

"But how exactly do you go about your procedures? Will they work on our son?"

"Well," the other man began, "there are different therapies for different people. Some are extremely effective on certain people, while others are not. I mostly focus on cognitive-behavioral therapy, but I have other…_therapies_ at my disposal as well."

The family listened earnestly to what the man had to say.

"I suppose a demonstration is in order," he said, turning to the door on his left–the only other door in the room. "Ryuuko, could you please come out?"

The dark-haired girl muttered obscenities to herself as she headed for the door of the room he had put her in. _'Stay here while I attend to my clients,'_ he told her, the girl pouting and making herself comfortable on the couch in the cluttered room. She didn't want to be treated like some obedient pet, but she had nothing else to do–and she was reluctant on leaving him to walk around town, as that might force her onto the streets again.

Ryuuko hadn't bothered turning the lights on; the dimness made it easier to take a nap on the couch–which she had done. It was an average-sized room, bookshelves along one wall and a desk on another. Papers were stacked to the ceiling, and when she flipped through them, she saw that they were notes he took on his clients; it puzzled her, as she hadn't seen him with his notepad since the day she met him. _Did he write about them after he conducted his therapy?_ If so, the man had a frighteningly precise memory.

The girl opened the door carefully, seeing the family and Aikurou facing each other. She put on her friendliest face, knowing what Aikurou expected of her. She desperately wished she could run over and punch him right in the face, but that would be_'poor behavior'_ as the blue-haired man put it. Ryuuko glanced over at the boy on the couch, their eyes locking, and they stared at each other–one, fearful, and the other, murderous. Smile frozen on her face, she kindly introduced herself to the family.

"I'm Ryuuko Matoi. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her eyes darting over to the boy. He shrank back but no one seemed to notice.

"This is the product of my therapy. She underwent a change from street rat to a well-mannered young lady."

She turned her glare on her mentor. _How dare he refer to her as a street rat! And what the hell was he doing, talking about her like she was some kind of guinea pig?!_ He raised both eyebrows, reminding her that the family was still present. The girl softened her gaze, the daughter running over to greet her.

"Ryuuko! My name's Mako, Mako Mankanshoku! We're going to be amazing friends, I just know it!" The brown-haired girl nearly shouted, clasping the other girl's hands. Taken aback by Mako's enthusiasm, Ryuuko could only plaster a smile on her face and nod along. The family was astounded with Aikurou's 'product', and agreed to meet with the him the following week.

Suddenly, the father checked his watch, exclaiming that he had an upcoming appointment with a patient. Aikurou was rather impressed by the other man's dedication, but the mother _assured_ him that most of the patients never came back. Whether this was a good or a bad thing, the blue-haired man couldn't fathom.

As soon as the family left, Aikurou placed a hand on Ryuuko's head. "You did very well," he told her, the girl looking up at him in surprise. Ryuuko wasn't sure how to take a compliment from him–although she was irked he had thrown her into his back room and called her a street rat, a pleasant feeling rose up within her. That feeling was soon replaced with that of suspicion, and she tried not to let his praise get the best of her. She did a small curtsy, a hint of frivolousness in her voice.

"Thank you very much, _sir_."

He didn't pay it any mind.

* * *

They had a bit of time before his next appointment, so Aikurou brought the girl to the park and treated her to ice cream. A soft smile crossed his face once he saw the girl's eyes light up at seeing the different flavors available. She licked her strawberry ice cream happily, Aikurou holding his vanilla cone in one hand as they walked.

"Have you ever considered going back to school?" he asked, birds flapping above them.

"Not really," she stated nonchalantly, as if the idea bored her. "I haven't been to school since seventh grade, and I don't plan on going back. School's like a prison."

"Surely you'd want an education? It'll help you greatly." She gave him a sidelong glance, then looked in horror at the ice cream dripping onto her hand.

"I don't need an education. People think going to school makes them better than those who don't, but that's a load of bull. We're all human."

He stared at her. The thought had never crossed his mind. His teachers had always encouraged him to continue his education, to become 'smarter' than the others. But there were plenty of people out there who'd never seen a textbook–and they knew how to take care of themselves.

"That's an interesting viewpoint," he remarked, the girl furrowing her eyebrows at him. She licked the ice cream off of her fingers, annoying the man. "That isn't very elegant."

"So what? It's ice cream. You're supposed to lick it."

"Not off of your fingers."

"You're a real pain, you know that?"

His annoyance turned into a small grin.

"So are you."

She stuck her tongue out at him, getting a bit of ice cream on her cheek. He sighed and wiped it off with one finger, earning a blush from the dark-haired girl. The blue-haired man licked it off of his finger, savoring the strawberry taste.

"Not half bad."

Her face was on fire.

"W-w-what was that for?!"

"It's ice cream. You're supposed to lick it."

She nearly threw her cone at him in retaliation. "Don't toss my words back at me!"

"I was merely taking your advice and returning it."

"Bull–"

"Or did you think that was something remotely romantic?"

The temperature in her cheeks rose.

"Th-that's stupid! You're stupid!"

His grin only grew wider. "Ryuuko Matoi, do you have a _crush_ on me?"

Her face became as red as a tomato. She kicked him, the man laughing despite the pain in his shin.

* * *

A week later, Aikurou was in his office discussing Matarou's possible treatment plans with the Mankanshoku family. The girl hid in the back room as usual, not wanting to blow her cover by giving the boy threatening looks while the rest of the family was present. Soon, Aikurou, Mako and the Mankanshoku parents left the room to talk about payment options, leaving the boy up to his own devices.

He grinned to himself and scanned the room for anything of value. Just as he was about to rummage through the files on Aikurou's desk, the boy felt a burning sensation at the back of his head. Matarou slowly turned around to find the dark-haired girl with her head poking out from behind the door to the back room, glaring at him. He chuckled sheepishly, holding his hands up defensively as he backed away from the desk.

"You're, uh, Ryuuko, right? Name's Matarou," he began, the girl eyeing him warily and with contempt. Suddenly, a mischievous grin appeared on his face, the boy hiding his hands behind his back. "You're his 'product', huh? What exactly did he, uh, _do_ to you?" His voice had a lewd tone and Ryuuko narrowed her eyes at the boy.

"He didn't _do_ anything to me, idiot!"

"That would explain why you still sound like a street rat," he taunted, Ryuuko storming into the office with her hands balled into fists. Before she could drive her fist into the boy's jaw, he quickly said, "wait, wait! You don't want to punch me." He grinned. "Otherwise my family will know about your 'bad behavior' and leave!"

She gave the boy a hard look.

"I'll just say you tripped and hit the desk."

Matarou was soon lying on the floor, whimpering as Ryuuko dusted her hands and glared at the boy. She looked up in time to see the Mankanshoku family and Aikurou staring at them, speechless. The dark-haired girl's face flushed, but before she could make up an excuse, Aikurou cut in.

"I like to believe that physical punishment is a necessary form of discipline for the most incorrigible of patients."

Ryuuko's embarrassment turned into shock. _Had the man actually said that?_

The family remained silent, Aikurou and Ryuuko anticipating their response with bated breath. Finally, the mother laughed.

"If belting my son improves his behavior, feel free to belt away!"

The room fell silent–save for the boy's sniveling.

"O-of course!" the father exclaimed, glancing cautiously at his wife. Mako wasn't paying attention to the entire ordeal, distracted by reading the spines of the books on the shelves backwards. The behaviorist and his 'product' sighed in relief. The boy scrambled to get up, dashing behind his parents as Ryuuko followed him with her eyes. Aikurou gave the girl a knowing look.

The Mankanshoku family soon departed from the office, stating that they would visit the office the next week–their son sobbing to himself as they exited. Aikurou plopped down into the chair in front of the couch, sighing again as he placed a hand to his temple.

"Ryuuko."

Knowing exactly what he was going to say, the girl swallowed and turned toward him.

"Why did you punch him?"

She grumbled to herself, averting her eyes. He stood up, lightly gripping her chin so that she would face him. The temperature in her cheeks rose–but her spirits fell, seeing the disapproving look on his face. His eyes gazed in hers and she saw an unreadable emotion in them. She averted her eyes, observing the potted plant by the door, and muttered her explanation.

"He made me mad."

"You didn't have to hurt him."

He released his grip, allowing her to temporarily hide the redness of her face. She crossed her arms and huffed to herself.

"He's a brat."

"Why do you have such hostility toward him?"

"He stole my gummy candies!" she nearly yelled, her eyes fixed on the floor. Aikurou quieted. She peeked up at him to see a surprised look on his face. Suddenly, he burst into a fit of laughter.

"You–he–what?"

She nearly kicked the man.

"Shut up! It's a very serious matter!" Ryuuko shook a fist at the behaviorist.

"Are you–" he gasped out, clutching his sides, "–sure?"

The dark-haired girl wanted to wipe the grin off his face. With a well-aimed punch.

She huffed and stomped out of the room, the man calling out after her.

"Ryuuko, I didn't mean to laugh, really! Ryuuko! I promise I won't laugh next time!"

She turned and threw him a disgruntled look.

"Shut up! There won't _be_ a next time!"


	5. Act IV - Fractious

A/N: First of all, thank you for your reviews. They motivate me to continue uploading chapters. Second, I'd like to announce that this is the second-to-last chapter of F3. Since I won't put an Author's Note at the beginning of the next chapter, I hope you enjoy the ending of this story.

* * *

Act IV – Fractious

Weeks turned into months, the Kiryuuin ball looming ever closer. Aikurou looked for dresses for her, the girl by his side, face always flushing. She rejected each and every dress, stating that they weren't her 'style', but the man insisted. _'It's just one simple occasion, and you'll never have to wear it again,'_ he tried reassuring her. Reluctantly, she went to the department store with him, dragging her feet to the women's section and finding appropriate attire for the ball.

Her lessons were unforgiving and she complained at least thrice a day. But as the days progressed, she found herself accepting the blue-haired man's presence. She no longer threw the shampoo bottle at him when he walked in on her in the bathroom ("It was an accident, I swear!") and it was rare for her to refer to him as 'stupid', 'twit', and 'son of a bull'–to give just a few of his nicknames. She'd have breakfast with him in the apartment, ride with him to his office, wait in the back room while he worked, eat lunch with him in the park, wait some more, have the occasional ice cream with him and help him prepare dinner when he was too tired to do so. The girl was oblivious to the man who placed a blanket over her when she had none to sleep with, remembered her favorite snacks at the grocery store, gave her extra change for a second ice cream cone, let her have an extra key in case he couldn't leave work right away.

He, too, found himself growing attached to her.

She had her legs tucked under her, sitting at the kotatsu in front of her finished plate. The behaviorist was reading the day's newspaper, folded next to his plate as he ate. Ryuuko glanced back and forth between his plate and him. She laid back on the carpet with a groan.

"Bored?" Aikurou mused as he flipped a page with one hand, held coffee with the other.

"You have _no_ idea."

"I think I _do_ have an idea." He looked up at her, a slight curve in his lips. "We'll be getting groceries after lunch. Will that cure your boredom?"

"Lunch is too far away!" she declared impatiently, still lying on the ground as she hugged a cushion.

"Why don't you take a walk while I'm working?"

She sat up in surprise. Never before had he allowed her to wander around while he was busy at work.

"A-are you sure?" she asked, unable to keep out the uncertainty edging into her voice. His eyes locked with hers, a spark of humor in his.

"Just don't steal anything. Or let the cops catch you."

She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

After he had finished his meal, the dark-haired girl rode with Aikurou to the clinic and they parted ways at the door. Ryuuko made her way to the park, the sounds of the bustling city enveloping her. Dodging passerby on the sidewalk, the girl spotted an ice cream stand not far from where she was and almost made a beeline for it–had she not remembered that she didn't have money on her. She bit her lip, realizing that she relied on the man for all of her financial needs.

At that moment, she heard a lively voice calling for her.

"Ryuuko! Over here!"

She turned to find a brown-haired girl beckoning her over to the park, ice cream cones in her hands. Ryuuko grinned, seeing the other girl, and jogged over to where Mako was. The energetic girl was holding two cones: chocolate and strawberry. She handed the pink cone to a surprised dark-haired girl.

"Th-thank you," Ryuuko began, the brown-haired girl giving her a wide smile, "but are you sure it's okay?"

"It's not a problem! Dad got a bonus last week, so he gave it to me and my brother to spend on whatever we wanted!"

"I've been meaning to ask," the other girl began as they walked, "what does your dad do?"

"He's a doctor in the hospital across the street!" Mako exclaimed, nearly throwing her chocolate ice cream into the air.

"He seems like a pretty good doctor," Ryuuko remarked, remembering his punctuality the last time they met.

"Nope!" Mako countered, surprising the dark-haired girl, "in fact, he kills most of his patients!"

Ryuuko stared at the other girl in silence.

"O-oh, I see."

Suddenly a brown-haired woman waved to Mako from across the street. The woman was carrying two bags of groceries, a pug rolling around at her feet.

"Oh, mom's calling! She makes the best croquettes," the enthusiastic girl told Ryuuko, the dark-haired girl waving as well. Mako nearly made a dash for her mother, but stopped before crossing the street.

"You should really try a few sometime! If you ever need a place to stay, come visit, okay? We'll always welcome you!" She handed the dark-haired girl a slip of paper with her address written on it before running off.

Ryuuko grasped the paper, a soft smile on her face.

* * *

"You look a little tired," the blue-haired man remarked as soon as she met him at his office.

Ryuuko shook her head, smiling as she remembered Mako's departing words. "I just walked really far," she told him, the man returning her smile.

"Are you still up for groceries?"

She nodded and they walked to the supermarket, chatting about the news or estimating how many ice cream cones Ryuuko could stomach. The girl swung her arms happily by her side and had to refrain from skipping so she wouldn't seem _too_ happy. She wasn't going to admit to liking the man, despite how nice it felt being beside him. As they went from aisle to aisle, Ryuuko commented on which brand of cereal she liked best, chose a milk carton before he had time to do so, and helped him push the cart.

It was in the produce section that another cart almost crashed into theirs, and Ryuuko retaliated with utmost force. She argued with the owner of that cart, nearly kicking the other cart, anger escalating–until Aikurou excused the girl for her 'poor behavior'. He gave her a stern look as soon as the other cart had left.

"You shouldn't lash out like that."

She was still seething.

"He didn't even apologize! That jerk!"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Like hell he didn't!"

The behaviorist sighed. "Ryuuko, don't make a scene."

"Shut up! Don't treat me like I'm your daughter!" The section they were in fell quiet, customers face reddened under their gazes, and she dashed off into the laundry detergent aisle. Aikurou stared after her, then turned to the counter to ask for a cut of pork. The girl sniffled; the smell of cleanliness was too much for her, a mixture of different saccharine odors. For some reason, her heart ached.

_Why was he treating her like she couldn't take care of herself?_

Then again, she _did_ rely on him for pretty much everything: clothing, food, shelter. A feeling of helplessness gnawed at her. She was nothing but a child.

_Why didn't she feel comfortable with the idea of being his daughter?_

"Ryuuko."

His voice made her jump, her heart beating rapidly. She turned around to face him, hands behind her back, the ground taking her interest. Although the girl had lived with him for the past few months, his presence suddenly made her nervous–as if she had done something to disappoint him. She glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He had on a reproachful look, his usual smile gone as he leaned on the cart. The girl brusquely walked over to him, averting her eyes.

Suddenly, Ryuuko felt his arms around her. Surprised, she tried backing away, but his arms held her in place. Relenting, she grasped his dress shirt, her eyes wet and blurry._No! She was Ryuuko Matoi, and there was no way she was going to cry in a place like this!_

"I'm sorry," she whispered, close to his beating heart. He kissed the top of her head, replying with an "it's fine" as he rubbed her back. She wrapped her arms around him, returning his embrace.

_How she wanted to lean up and lightly place her lips against his!_

But that would be too bold, and this man had already done so much for her.

* * *

It was difficult to believe that several months had passed since Aikurou had made that bet with Tsumugu and that he had trained a poverty-stricken orphan into a well-mannered woman. Soon, the night of the ball arrived. Ryuuko fiddled with the hem of her dress in front of the bathroom mirror. The blue-haired man was well-groomed as well–he wore a white suit with his hair neatly parted, a silver watch adorning his wrist. The temperature in her cheeks rose every time she stole a glance at him.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, the girl anxiously picking at her dress. The man had spent months preparing her for this ball, teaching her how to waltz, which utensils to use for specific courses, even how to humbly receive compliments.

"Maybe we could wait fifteen minutes?" the girl inquired, her voice small.

"It starts in an hour," Aikurou told her, checking his watch.

"I-I-I have to make sure I'm fully prepared!" she stammered, making sure not to look at the handsome man reflected in the mirror before her. The corner of his lips quirked but he said nothing more until she had calmed her nerves.

She stared at herself in the mirror. As much as she disliked the idea of wearing such a short dress–exposing more skin than was necessary–she knew she couldn't go without formal attire. Aikurou had urged her to attend, telling her that it would be an 'interesting experience' and that she wouldn't have to worry about going through this ever again.

"Ah, yes. I have something for you." The man walked over to his bedroom, returning with something in his hand. "Ryuuko, hold out your hand." She did as she was told, a curious look on her face. Her eyes widened when he placed a silver band on her finger.

"W-w-what's this for?" Face flushing, she attempted taking it off her ring finger, but the man clasped both hands over hers, a small smile on his face.

"It's just for tonight," he told her, unknowing of the accelerating heart in her chest. She looked away when he said this, despondent. There was something, _something_ at the back of her mind that hoped–

No, he wouldn't do that.

He opened the car door for her, allowing her to get into the passenger side. They drove in silence, Aikurou focused on the road, Ryuuko, on the rain. The couple arrived at the Kiryuuin ball exactly on time, greeted by a large man with blond hair. He let them in after seeing the other man's invitation, the blue-haired man giving him a polite smile as they walked through the doors. Immediately, Ryuuko felt extremely self-conscious as eyes turned toward her. She looked around herself, wondering if the other guests were staring at something behind her. Soon, Aikurou placed a hand on her back, steering her over to Tsumugu. The burly man was seated at one of the circular tables, dressed in black.

The dark-haired girl grinned when she saw him. She was glad to see the man, and animatedly inquired about where he had been, what he had done, and why he was there. He answered each question truthfully, Aikurou simply smiling at Ryuuko's sudden enthusiasm. Actually, the behaviorist was starting to feel jealous, seeing the girl focused on a man other than himself–but he smiled nonetheless.

"May I?" he asked her, holding out his hand. The girl looked at him in surprise, then accepted his offer despite the burning in her cheeks.

"You've done well," he commented as they danced, the girl's dress twirling with her.

"Not at all," she parroted, remembering her lines. She was trying hard not to blush. As soon as he was close enough to her, he leaned forward, lips close to her ear.

"You don't have to be polite around me. I know who you are."

Her heart stopped. She wasn't sure how to take his last words. On one hand, she was glad they were familiar with each other; on the other, the idea of him knowing her secrets made her feel vulnerable. He pulled away, a plastic smile on his face, her own face a bright red. The dance soon ended and Ryuuko was tempted to take off her heels–they gave her such a discomfort that she was certain she wouldn't be able to walk in the morning. Aikurou gave her a reprimanding look, the girl keeping her hands clenched at her side.

The night went on: more dancing, a feast, then even more dancing. Ryuuko wondered how any of the guests had enough energy to dance so much; she couldn't even last one. Finally, Aikurou and Ryuuko sneaked out of the ball and back to the car, umbrella shielding both of them from the downpour. Tsumugu followed them with an umbrella of his own.

"Good job, Mikisugi," the burly man told him, the dark-haired girl tilting her head in confusion. _Why was Tsumugu complimenting him?_ The behaviorist hadn't done anything–_she_ was the one who had endured such rigorous training those past few months!

"Of course. It's time for you to complete your end of the bargain."

The girl looked over at the blue-haired man, wondering about the men's 'bargain'. "Mikisugi–"

"I'll pay, as you said," Tsumugu replied, "but not right now."

"Very well, friend," Aikurou stated as he opened the door for Ryuuko. Hesitantly, she got in–the behaviorist paying her no attention.

"Miki–" she began, but he walked over to the driver's side without another word. While they were driving, she pieced two and two together: Aikurou had made a bet with Tsumugu and succeeded; the reward was money–and it frightened her, seeing his change in attitude towards her.

She tried getting his attention again.

"Mikisugi, what am I going to do now?"

Now that she had helped him fulfill his goal, he had no reason to keep her by his side. He said nothing, staring at the cars in front of them. _Why was he ignoring her?_ She remained silent for the rest of the drive, fuming.

They entered the apartment nearly drenched, Aikurou leaving the umbrella to dry beside their shoes. As soon as he had done so, she grabbed the blue pillow on the couch and chucked it at him, hitting him square in the face.

"What was _that_ for?!"

"What am I going to do?" she repeated–with more force. She stared into those blue eyes of his, trying to discern his feelings at that moment.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her, holding the pillow with one hand. The girl looked away, heart tearing the longer she realized that he had no need for her anymore.

"You turned me into a 'proper lady', but that was just for money. What am I supposed to do now? Live on the streets again?" Her heart caught in her throat and she struggled to breathe as she turned away from him. As much as Ryuuko knew she could take care of herself–she was resilient, after all–she also knew that her life of luxury would soon end. And she'd miss it.

He gave her a smile–not gentle or joyful, but one of dark humor.

"You could get married," he said lightly, chuckling to himself. Her heart sank. _How could he joke around so easily?_ Ryuuko was certain he was aware of her feelings.

Her face twisted in anger and she threw the ring at him, the man catching it in surprise. She was livid, grief-stricken. He stared at her, uncomprehending. Soon, however, his incomprehension turned into distress, and the girl looked at him in trepidation. His next words were quiet.

"I taught you manners, gave you a home, fed you, clothed you–and _this_ is how you repay me?" He glanced down at the ring in his hand. _How could she reject something he had given her out of his free will?_ Bitterly, his hand clenched around the silver band, feeling its smoothness against his skin.

At that moment, he threw the ring into the fire, making the girl jump back in fear. Sparks flew as the silver band hit the flames, smoldering as it fell to the ashes beneath the firewood.

They stared at each other in silence for several minutes, the fire crackling. Despondent, he turned and retreated to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Ryuuko stood there, her heart beating in terror. _How could this happen?_

She curled up on the couch beside her favorite blue pillow and sobbed to herself, hugging her knees. The wet dress stuck to her skin, making her feel worse. Her heart ached.

Later, a blue-haired man crept out of his bedroom, his footsteps quiet and precise. Seeing the girl soaked and asleep on the couch, he sighed and brought out a blanket, placing it over her body. She sneezed, but didn't wake up. Before he returned to his room, he crouched by the dying fire and carefully picked out the silver band.

The blackened ring still felt warm in his hand.


	6. Act V - Fallacious

Act V – Fallacious

"Tsumugu, I need your help. I can't find Ryuuko anywhere," the blue-haired man hurriedly said into the phone. Ashes fell from his cigarette, his hand shaking with nervousness. Pedestrians passed him by, blind to the man's dire situation–he was sitting in his car, engine idle at a red light, several blocks away from his apartment.

When the behaviorist woke the morning after the ball, the girl had disappeared, her blanket folded neatly beside the blue pillow. His heart sank, knowing she had left because of him. He'd nearly contacted the police had Tsumugu not reminded him that Ryuuko wouldn't want that.

He had no idea that the girl was trudging her way through alley after alley, trying to figure out what to do with herself now that he no longer had use for her.

She grasped the slip of paper in her hand, peering into the windows of rundown houses and shops. She'd never been to this part of town before and it made her uneasy knowing that anyone familiar with the place would have a fighting advantage over her. But she wasn't here to fight.

The place brought back memories of her time on the streets and a feeling of loneliness filled her. _Was this where she belonged?_ The area's residents looked at her curiously, and she felt the hairs at the back of her neck rise when their gazes lingered too long. She wanted to get to her destination as soon as possible.

Ah, there it was.

Before her sat a dirty shack of a house, door covered in dirt, roof covered in rust. The houses in the neighboring lots weren't any better: mold was beginning to crawl its way up the walls, old crates and flat tires were stacked everywhere and trashcans were overflowing with more rubbish than she'd ever seen in her entire life. Standing at the edge of their lot, Ryuuko took a deep breath, her determination resolute. She marched over to the front door and began knocking. The girl glanced around herself nervously, hearing the echoing of her fist against the metal door, but she was soon greeted by the brown-haired woman she'd seen before. The woman smiled and said, "hello, Ryuuko. You're just in time for dinner. Come inside."

The girl crept into the foreign house, uncertain. The woman led her to the kotatsu, where Mako, her father, their pug, and that intolerable, no-good brat sat. Matarou froze when he saw Ryuuko, half a croquette in his mouth, fear in his eyes. Mako went up to the other girl and hugged her, rice still on her cheeks. Her father grinned and said hello, the boy next to him gobbling down as many croquettes as he could before their visitor had time to pummel him into the ground. He didn't want to die on an empty stomach.

Ryuuko found herself sitting at the kotatsu between Mako and her mother, enjoying the rest of the croquettes and chatting about her recent whereabouts. She refused to talk about the blue-haired man who had broken her heart. Unfortunately, Sukuyo, the mother, just _had_ to inquire after she snapped at Matarou for taking the croquettes out of Ryuuko's bowl when the girl wasn't looking.

"Mi-Mikisugi? He's been…well," Ryuuko began, staring into her empty bowl as the family continued to eat.

"I heard you live with him! Is that true?" Mako commented, mouth filled with croquettes.

"Er…yeah, I do. But–" Ryuuko hesitated, thinking back to the ball, "–I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean, dear?" Sukuyo asked, an empathetic smile on her face. The dark-haired girl had a feeling the woman knew exactly what happened and Sukuyo's insight frightened her.

"I kind of left."

"Kind of? Did he kick you out or something?" Matarou burst into laughter as soon as he said this, but his mother smacked him upside the head. "Eat, Matarou!" she commanded, the boy putting his bowl close to his mouth to hide his snickering.

"I don't know," Ryuuko responded, a hollow feeling inside her. She was certain he wouldn't welcome her back into his home after everything that had happened. Sukuyo gave her a warm smile.

"You could always stay with us."

She looked up in surprise, the boy groaning in despair. "Eat, Matarou," his mother commanded again and the boy dejectedly grabbed more croquettes.

"I-I don't know about that. I mean, you're a family. I don't want to–"

"It's fine! Mako's been telling us all about you, and we wouldn't mind having you be a part of our family!" Barazou, their father, replied.

Ryuuko's face reddened. _Were they really so keen on taking care of her?_

"I can't," the dark-haired girl finally said, eyes downcast, "not when I still have something I need to do."

"What 'something', Ryuuko?" Mako asked her, tilting her head.

"I need to apologize to someone first," Ryuuko explained, "then I'll come home."

Mako clapped her hands in joy, hugging the girl, Sukuyo and Barazou smiled, and Matarou distracted himself from the terrifying news by clutching the pug in his arms. Ryuuko was glad to have found someone kind enough to take her in–especially so soon after she had left Aikurou's apartment. Her determination set in stone, she bid them a temporary farewell and steeled herself for her meeting with the blue-haired man. She'd tell him one last goodbye and they'd part ways after that.

_Simple, right?_

Aikurou unlocked the door with a _click_, his clothes soaked from the merciless downpour. He'd forgotten to take his umbrella with him on his search for the dark-haired girl. Flipping on the lights, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw the girl sitting on his couch.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, certain he had locked the door before he left. She held up a key in response–the one he had given her. He ran a hand through his wet hair, agitated. The girl stood up, her spirit unwavering.

"I came to say I'm sorry."

"I was searching for you!" he cried out, the girl unfazed by the upset look on his face. She had no time for his complaints.

"I know. And I want to apologize for wasting your time," she began, taking several steps toward him. These weren't the steps of a girl who had depended on him the past few months; they were the steps of a woman finally finding security in both herself and others. She had a place to belong, and that was all that mattered.

"I was worried," he said quietly, his voice so soft that Ryuuko had to strain her ears to hear. Her heart sped up when she realized what he had said.

"Sorry. But I need to go now," she told him, unwilling to stay in his presence any longer. She didn't want to feel a shred of regret, but that regret was already inside her, ripping up her heart. The girl had a home now, but why did she feel as if something was missing? She pushed the thought–and her feelings–away.

"Ryuuko," he pleaded, his wish evident in that single utterance of her name.

"I have a family to go back to."

"You have a family here. Granted, I'm not perfect–" he started to say, regaining his composure.

"I don't want to be your daughter."

He looked at her in surprise, then in remorse. With one sentence, she had managed to dash the last of his hopes. The girl looked away, unable to form the words from her heart.

"I want to be more than that," she whispered, heart beating rapidly. Her courage was diminishing by the second. She continued, regardless of her fading resolve.

"I like you, Mikisugi."

The man stared at her, shocked. _Had he been oblivious to her feelings the entire time?_ He was certain she was happy with her previous living situation with him, and he didn't mind the idea of keeping her by his side, especially as a daughter. She was his companion, someone he had grown to care for over time–sharing his home, his income, his life with her. When did he become so foolish as to think she wouldn't become attached to him? Furthermore, how could he believe he wouldn't become attached to _her_?

She shifted uncomfortably, watching him in silence. He looked as if he had just had an epiphany of sorts and she didn't want to disturb him from his revelation. But she also anticipated his response to her feelings, fearful of what may happen. She didn't want her heart to shatter again.

"Ryuuko," he said, running a hand through his hair again. He seemed distressed over something.

_Had she done something wrong?_

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked, a small smile appearing on his face. Her heart leaped when he brought her into his arms.

"W-well, I–"

"Silly girl," he murmured, pressing his lips against her hair, "I've been so stupid."

"What? You're not–"

"It wasn't because of money," he stated quietly, "it was for my own selfish pride." Instead of the crushing blow of indignity that he had expected, he felt a sudden weight lift off of his shoulders. She closed her eyes, settling into his embrace.

"I forgive you," she managed to say, her head against his chest. He smiled to himself, the girl still in his arms.

"Stay, Ryuuko." The words were gentle–not a command, but a request.

She broke away from him, shaking her head.

"I have a family, Mikisugi."

Ryuuko almost couldn't bear the crestfallen look he gave her. She walked past him, the man turning around to protest–but she stopped at the doorway, the rain splashing against concrete. Turning toward him, she offered up a smile, trying to ease his pain.

"But I'll be back."

He returned her smile, seeing not the girl he had met all those months ago, but the woman who had stolen his heart in less than a year. Aikurou felt the blackened band in his pocket, cool metal against his skin.

"I'll be waiting."


End file.
